


Wear Me Down

by clottedcreamfudge



Series: Put those stones back where they came from or so help me [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apples continue to be a motif, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Jock Adora (She-Ra), Light Angst, Medical Procedures, Mentions of past abuse, Nobody's bankrupted by anything, Once again pals, Phone Sex, Surprises, The continuation of my realistic gallbladder woes, This is based on the UK medical system, Very Minor, You asked for more and this is what you get, catradora, medical nonsense, oh lawd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge
Summary: Galling (adj. COMMON USE) - “Irritating, vexing or exasperating.”Galling (adj. ENGINEERING) - “[A] form of wear caused by adhesion between sliding surfaces.”*“Are you bored yet?” Adora whispers, leaning a little further into Catra’s space. She swears she hears the other woman’s heart rate pick up speed, even over the thumping bass of… some kind of synth-pop sea shanty.“I was getting there,” she replies slowly, skimming the soft skin at the base of Adora’s neck with her thumb absentmindedly; Adora swallows and Catra traces the movement with her eyes before looking back up. “Why?”“You said you’d leave if it got boring,” Adora murmurs, leaning into the touch ever so slightly. “If you want to leave… I’ll go with you. If you want.” Catra’s answering smile is slow and dangerous.“Oh I’m so bored, princess. I think you might need to rescue me.”
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Put those stones back where they came from or so help me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935184
Comments: 142
Kudos: 530
Collections: Himmelslieds Collection of Catradora Goodness





	Wear Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this gets pretty steamy in the middle before the story gently washes up on the shores of tooth-rotting fluff. I hope it's what so many of you were asking for!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented on the last fic; you're all brilliant, and completely barmy. I wouldn't have had the drive to write this without all the love you poured into my inbox. Thank you in particular to Tintagel, as always, for letting me babble incoherently at you several times a day, and for having time for me while your body attempts, much like Adora's, to pull a fast one. Also, major kudos for proofreading this so I could get it out on a deadline.
> 
> What deadline, you ask? Well, my freaky darlings, it is in fact the one year anniversary of my first hospitalisation for gallbladder problems! HOORAY AND HUZZAH. Join me in celebrating this weird anniversary by reading, enjoying, and - where you feel able or inclined - commenting. Bless you all.

Galling (adj. COMMON USE) - “Irritating, vexing or exasperating.”

Galling (adj. ENGINEERING) - “[A] form of wear caused by adhesion between sliding surfaces.”

* * *

Dating Catra is precisely as difficult as Adora had expected it to be.

They’ve been together for a month, and if it weren’t for the fact that she’s roughly two-thirds of the way in love with her already, she wonders if it would be worth it at all. But Catra’s a work in progress, okay, and she gets that; they both are. Adora has a propensity to take too much on her own shoulders, on the mistaken assumption that she’s the only one who can bear the weight. Catra, on the other hand, likes to perform semi-impossible feats of gymnastics in order to avoid talking about her feelings.

Like… actual, physical gymnastics. She climbed out of Adora’s dorm room window last week and went down the drainpipe because Adora was trying to convince her to go to her friends’ wedding as her plus one.

“I don’t know those people,” Catra had said, shaking her head and backing away from Adora with the look of a cornered animal. “And I don’t like parties. I fucking _hate_ parties, actually. How about _you_ go and take… Sparkles as your plus one.”

“Okay, first of all, _Glimmer_ is already going. Secondly, it would be nice to have you there!” Adora had been sure at the beginning of the conversation that it _would_ have been nice to have Catra with her at the wedding; Catra seemed pretty determined that it _wouldn’t_ be nice to have her there. Adora was becoming less convinced herself. “Also - _stop_ , Jesus, you’re gonna fall out the window.”

“I just remembered I have something super important I need to be doing right now,” Catra had said solemnly, putting one foot up on the windowsill. “I’ll see you when you’re ready to talk about this like a reasonable person.” And then she’d hauled herself out the window and slid down the goddamn drainpipe, which Adora would argue (and _has_ argued) does not seem like the behaviour of a _reasonable person_.

“I thought she’d be nicer now she’s getting some,” Glimmer says matter of factly from the other side of the table, peeling apart a cinnamon roll and eyeing it critically. Adora hasn’t seen Catra since The Incident - and that was a week ago - but the topic of Catra’s _totally unreasonable reaction_ keeps popping up in the Best Friend Squad’s lunchtime chats even now. It will, Adora suspects, keep popping up until someone comes up with a workable solution.

“She’s never going to be _nice_ ,” Adora says through gritted teeth, because the ‘getting some’ thing is a _touchy subject_ , actually. “It would be enough for her to be as sarcastic and spiky as she usually is, but like… while wearing a suit. She doesn’t have to actually be personable or anything.”

“What did you actually say to her, Adora?” Bow asks in his most measured, kindest voice. “You just said that you asked her and she freaked out.”

“I mean,” Adora begins abortively, sighing and deflating a little in her chair. “I guess that’s what happened? I said ‘oh look, Mermista and Seahawk are getting married, that’s nice’ and then something like ‘cool that I’ll have a plus one’ - then she said ‘ _oh will you_ ’ and it sort of went from there.” Bow raises his eyebrows at her and Glimmer has paused in the total decimation of her pastry in order to stare at her. _Judgmentally._ “What?”

“You didn’t even _ask_ her?” Bow asks, sounding a little horrified. Adora slowly shakes her head with a sense of - probably justified - foreboding.

“Adora, sweetie, I’d give you a run-down of why that’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, but it kinda looks like you’re getting that.” Adora buries her face in her hands and groans. She is _such_ an idiot.

* * *

**To: Catra**

_Can we talk?_

**From: Catra**

_I’m capable of reasonable, informed speech, yes. Are you?_

**To: Catra**

_It has come to my attention that the answer to that is probably ‘no’?_

**From: Catra**

_Ding ding ding_

**To: Catra**

_In my defence, you already knew I was an idiot._

**From: Catra**

_Yeah but every time you reach new levels I reassess what exactly I’ve gotten myself into._

**To: Catra**

_I will take all of this abuse and more but I would like to speak to you like a… reasonable person. Please._

**From: Catra**

_You got it, princess._

**To: Catra**

_Thank you. Come to my dorm later?_

**From: Catra**

_I’m on shift until 6. New girl messed up a bubble tea earlier… I’ll save it for you if you promise not to make a big deal out of it._

Adora flushes a little at her desk, looking at her phone with a dumb smile that would get her absolutely _rinsed_ if she was in view of literally any of her friends. Huntara would probably put her in a headlock. Catra works at a local cafe and once a week, like clockwork, someone messes up a bubble tea order and Adora ends up happily drinking the result. Catra vehemently denies having anything to do with it, but Adora knows better.

**To: Catra**

_Amazing, thank you. Italian for dinner?_

**From: Catra**

_If you don’t get tiramisu I’m leaving you._

**To: Catra**

_Completely reasonable._

Adora locks her phone and pulls a notebook towards her, opening it to a page that’s absolutely covered in her chicken scratch. She has some _plans_ to finalise.

* * *

It’s 6.30pm when Catra knocks on the door, and the handle rattles insistently as she immediately tries to open it without waiting for an answer.

“Why is your door locked?” She sounds muffled and vaguely annoyed on the other side of the door, and Adora immediately scrambles to get up from the bed and falls flat on her face.

“Ow,” she says with feeling, getting to her feet again and finally reaching the door to unlock it. It swings open and Catra pushes inside, shoving a very green bubble tea at Adora as she goes.

“You’re a hazard, princess,” she says in greeting, flopping down on the bed with a groan and toeing off her trainers. Catra stretches with her whole body, the arch of her spine and splay of her fingers appropriately feline, and her plain black t-shirt rides up to show a generous strip of tanned stomach. Adora swallows and looks away, pulling out the desk chair so she can sit there instead. She’s here to have a _conversation_ , not to ogle. Off the field, she is truly terrible at multitasking.

“How was your shift?” she asks with a note of desperation; maybe hearing Catra complain about ‘caffeine-dependent morons’ might distract her from the ever-present _want_ simmering under her skin.

“Do you actually wanna hear about my shift, or are you trying to avoid talking about other stuff?” Catra asks archly, propping herself up on her elbows so she can look at Adora with that piercing, heterochromatic gaze. Adora remembers this pose from hospital; back then, Catra had thought Glimmer was her girlfriend, if memory serves. Hopefully she’s been thoroughly disabused of this notion. Adora sighs and kicks off from the floor so that the office chair’s squeaky wheels carry her to the other end of her desk. Under Catra’s curious gaze she opens the bottom drawer and pulls something out before wheeling back to her original spot.

She passes the object between her hands on autopilot and Catra’s eyes follow it with an expression of dawning realisation.

“I’m sorry I assumed you would want to go to a stranger’s wedding with me without having had a proper discussion about it,” Adora begins, swallowing nervously. “So this is me asking you properly.” She takes a breath and tosses Catra the apple she’s been worrying between her palms; Catra catches it, staring for a brief moment at the waxy red surface before looking back at Adora, who takes that as her cue to continue. “I know you don’t like people, or parties, or… basically any aspect of a wedding. Except maybe cake, and the parts where you get to watch people get drunk and embarrass themselves.” Catra snorts. “But I was wondering if you might consider going with me? I understand if you don’t want to, but I really enjoy your company, and I kind of - selfishly - want to show you off. Just a bit.”

(She’s trying for honesty here, not perfection.)

Catra considers her for a moment, then looks back at the apple; Adora’s relieved to see she’s blushing, just a little, which means she’s taken the hidden compliment to heart.

“This is going to be a thing for us, isn’t it?” she asks eventually, holding up the apple with a barely-there smirk. Adora grins.

“I kinda feel like it’s a motif, yeah.”

“Motif, huh?” Catra says with a sly grin. “Someone’s taking her English module seriously. I hope that word doesn’t push fond memories of the 2019 England victory over the All Blacks out of your brain. I don’t think you’ve got much room in there.” Adora’s sure she should probably be offended, but she’s just grinning dumbly at her horribly sarcastic, funny, _beautiful_ girlfriend, because she’s taken the time to memorise Adora’s top 10 rugby moments.

(‘Two-thirds of the way in love’ is tipping into dangerously high fractional territory. Adora gives herself a week, tops.)

“I’m bettering myself,” she says importantly, puffing out her chest, and Catra laughs at her - which was the goal, really. Catra has the best laugh.

“I won’t have to wear a dress, right?” Catra asks casually, throwing the apple up in the air a few times and catching it, like that’s going to detract from the fact that she’s just said _yes_. Well, Adora thinks she’s said yes. She’d better check.

“Are you saying yes?”

“Answer my question first, princess.”

“You can wear anything you want. You can wear my rugby jersey and glittery hot pants, I don’t _care_ ,” she says fervently, leaning forward in her chair. “I would just really _really_ like you to come with me, if you think you can stand it.” Catra bites her lip, but Adora can tell she’s trying not to smile, which means she’s _won_ (it wasn’t a competition, sure, but it kind of _was_ ).

“Fine, I’ll go. But if someone pisses me off, or it gets boring, I’m leaving.”

“Catra,” Adora says with a slow smile. “I haven’t told you _anything_ about Seahawk yet, have I?”

* * *

Adora really should have led with the groom’s pyromania, as it turns out.

* * *

“Why did I ever think this would be a good idea?”

“Because you like me, and I asked you _nicely_ ,” Adora replies primly from her bedroom; Catra’s grumbling from behind the bathroom door only intensifies in both volume and ferocity. “Also because Seahawk is definitely going to set something on fire, and you’ve had a pool running about whether it’s going to be the cake or someone’s dress since you agreed to go.”

“I gave Bow really good odds on the cake one.” The muffled voice sounds marginally less pissy at the reminder of her potential winnings. Adora’s going to have to keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t set something on fire herself.

Adora slides a headpiece into her hair and eyes herself critically in the mirror. She’s not sure if it’s too much, but the dress is pretty simple so she thinks it might need _something_ ; the dress itself is a floor-length, white affair with gold straps, and Adora’s fairly certain it’s going to take her roughly 30 seconds to get some kind of horrible stain on it. Probably ketchup. She doubts there’ll even be ketchup at the wedding, but she’ll manage it somehow.

“This had better be good enough,” Catra says crossly, emerging from the bathroom behind Adora and plucking at her shirt. “Because I’m not-” She looks up and stops speaking immediately, eyes zeroing in on the dress.

“Hey,” Adora says awkwardly, doing an abortive half wave like a _nerd_ , before letting her hands fall back to her sides. “You look amazing! Much better than a rugby jersey,” she jokes, trying not to linger too long on the barely-buttoned shirt exposing the column of Catra’s throat, her collar bones, and a tantalising glimpse of… Adora swallows. Better just to look at her face.

“You, um,” Catra says, then stops. She takes a few steps forward so she’s standing just within Adora’s reach. “New dress?” Adora nods. Then, because she can, she steps into Catra’s space, ghosting her hand over the splayed collar of that enticing shirt to cup the back of her neck.

“New shirt?” she murmurs, and Catra nods too, eyes so uncharacteristically _telling_ that Adora has no choice but to kiss her.

Every time feels as good, as world-altering, as the first time. Adora’s heart stutters, as though her body is still surprised at the immensity of what she’s feeling, and the soft little noises Catra makes against her mouth only make the experience sharper. They’re not in hospital anymore, Adora reminds herself, shivering at the touch of Catra’s hands at her waist and neck; they’re in Adora’s dorm room, where the door is locked and nobody’s going to interrupt them.

Then Catra wraps her arms around Adora’s neck and literally _climbs up her body_ to wrap lithe legs around her waist -- and Adora’s (completely valid) reasons for not having gone further than these heated touches fly out of the window.

“Do you always have to look so annoyingly _hot_ all the time?” Catra growls, pulling away long enough to shove one of the golden straps down Adora’s arm and bite insistently at her shoulder. Adora sucks in a sharp breath and, with a presence of mind she will probably never have again, turns to press Catra against the wall - hard. Catra makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat and then she’s getting a fist in Adora’s hair and pulling her back down for a messy kiss, all heat and noise and just enough teeth to make them both breathless.

“You’re the hot one,” Adora argues somewhat stupidly, pulling back long enough to glare at her girlfriend before she’s reeled back in with an eye roll.

And that’s about when the fun stops, because Glimmer doesn’t really do knocking.

And she has a spare key.

“Oh my _god_ , my _eyes,_ ” she shrieks, entirely too dramatically in Adora's opinion, her hands coming up - weirdly - to cover _Bow's_ eyes, rather than her own. "Bow, don't look! You'll be corrupted!"

"You're right," Catra says blithely, nodding and doing absolutely nothing to disentangle herself from Adora. "This is definitely going to turn him into a lesbian." Adora does an extremely ugly snort of a laugh but Catra is apparently so delighted by the chance to scar Glimmer that she doesn’t notice, so it passes without comment.

“We have to leave in _five minutes_ ,” Glimmer hisses, still looking thoroughly scandalised. Her hand is also still very much over Bow’s eyes. It’s hard to tell how Bow feels about this, but given the fact that his hands are on his hips and his mouth looks suspiciously turned up at the corners, Adora thinks he’s probably okay.

“Yeah, and if you’d given us _five minutes_ ,” Catra drawls, winding her arms a little tighter around Adora’s neck, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Because I’d have walked in on _worse_!”

“May as well get your money’s worth,” Catra says with a lecherous grin, and Glimmer shrieks and starts to push Bow out of the room. He’s definitely laughing now.

“Just… meet us out front. _Clothed_. And _presentable_. In four minutes!”

“You guys are just the cutest,” Bow says warmly, before the door is slammed behind him by Glimmer and her embarrassed rage.

Adora sighs in the manner of the severely hard-done-by, and reluctantly pulls away from the wall so that Catra can slither back to the floor. She keeps her arms around Adora’s neck though, pulling her down into a long, slow kiss the moment her toes touch the ground.

“One for the road,” Catra murmurs as she pulls away, finally releasing her hold on Adora. Physically at least. Adora blinks and clears her throat.

“Right, yeah. Presentable?” She’s not sure if she’s asking if _she_ is, or if they should _get_ that way. She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anything less. Catra raises an eyebrow then reaches out, slowly and deliberately, to slide the strap of Adora’s dress back onto her shoulder, fingers brushing across her collar bone as she pulls away. Then, grinning slyly, she undoes another of her own shirt buttons.

“I think we’re both good to go,” she says mildly, but she’s still grinning, and Adora really doesn’t know how she’s meant to help herself.

They make it outside with fifteen seconds to spare.

* * *

The wedding is actually… great. Given Mermista’s attitude towards perpetual _chill_ , it shouldn’t be surprising that it’s the most relaxed event Adora’s ever been to, but it still somehow catches her off guard. The whole thing - from ceremony to sit-down meal - is held in a huge converted barn, hemmed in by fields and a truly impressive lake (which is, thankfully, fenced-off); there’s no seating plan, which is a fun sort of chaos, and instead of a cake there’s just a huge tiered stand of cupcakes. Seahawk cries when he sees Mermista in her sari, and she rolls her eyes while looking incredibly pleased, and Adora maybe _also_ cries. Just a bit.

The best bit about it, however, has to be the theme.

“The cupcake icing looks like the _ocean_ ,” Bow gasps, covering his mouth with both hands. The theme is, broadly speaking, nautical; there are blue and turquoise streamers hanging from the rafters, alongside fishing nets that stretch down to the floor in places. There are tables next to each net with polaroid cameras, and the guests are being encouraged (by Seahawk, mostly) to take selfies and clip them onto the netting. The chairs at the centre table where Mermista and Seahawk sat for the meal have pieces of sanded driftwood hanging on the backs of them declaring them both to be ‘CO-CAPTAIN’.

Also, they’ve all been given _hats_.

“This is dumb,” Catra says flatly, crossing her arms across her chest. Unfortunately, her vaguely pissed off expression does nothing to detract from the fact that she looks insanely good in a sailor’s hat.

“I dunno,” Adora says with a shrug and a dopey grin. “The hat’s kinda doing it for me.” She’s had precisely one glass of champagne and she’s feeling light-headed; she’s about as good with booze as she is with morphine, which is to say ‘not very’. The muscles should help but they just _don’t_. Catra gives her a withering look that does nothing to hide the fact that she’s obviously pleased.

“Me _existing_ does it for you, princess.” And yep, she definitely sounds fond. She’s also correct, Adora thinks, crowding Catra up against one of the wooden pillars that’s just out of sight of the dancefloor and digging blunt, possessive fingertips into her hips. Catra’s hands smooth up Adora’s arms and come to rest on her shoulders; she looks even more pleased now.

“Are you bored yet?” Adora whispers, leaning a little further into Catra’s space. She swears she hears the other woman’s heart rate pick up speed, even over the thumping bass of… some kind of synth-pop sea shanty.

“I was getting there,” she replies slowly, skimming the soft skin at the base of Adora’s neck with her thumb absentmindedly; Adora swallows and Catra traces the movement with her eyes before looking back up. “Why?”

“You said you’d leave if it got boring,” Adora murmurs, leaning into the touch ever so slightly. “If you want to leave… I’ll go with you. If you want.” Catra’s answering smile is slow and dangerous.

“Oh I’m _so_ bored, princess. I think you might need to _rescue me_.”

* * *

They kiss like horny teenagers in the back of the taxi, giggling when they’ve got the breath for it, hands all over each other; the driver very politely leaves them to it, simply turning up the radio for the duration of the journey. Whether this is to block out the noise, or to provide some kind of weird ambience, Adora’s not sure. Either way, she gives him a horrendously over-generous tip when they reach their destination, then lets herself be dragged by the arm into her own halls of residence.

“I need to - ah -” Adora gasps, trying to find her keys in the clutch bag Glimmer lent her for the wedding. This is made more difficult by Catra, who’s up on her tiptoes behind her, pressing up against Adora’s back and nipping insistently at her neck. She does eventually get the door open, and soon she has Catra in her room, pressed up against the (very much locked) door and whining.

“Adora, come _on_ ,” she says in a rush of breath, pushing at those gold straps again before fumbling blindly with the zipper. Adora doesn’t have the presence of mind to help her, busy as she is with the buttons on Catra’s shirt. It’s a nice shirt but, since she suspects what’s underneath it is even nicer, she ends up just kind of… ripping it open.

Catra blinks at her for a second then groans angrily, abandoning her quest to unzip Adora’s dress in favour of pulling her into a brief, but extremely hot and messy kiss (which has the added benefit of stopping Adora offering to pay for the ripped shirt).

“I can’t believe I found that attractive, God, I’m such a fucking _cliche_ ,” she breathes against Adora’s mouth, then they’re kissing again and Catra must somehow manage to pull together sufficient coordination to finish off the zipper because Adora feels the dress pooling at her feet a moment later. She gets Catra out of her (slightly ruined) shirt, then out of the tight, high-waisted trousers that have made her a distraction from every angle for the entire evening.

And then Adora sees the bruises blooming on Catra’s hips, and she freezes. Catra notices, because of course she does, and the tension in the room changes into something entirely less pleasant.

“Princess, _please_ don’t do this.” Adora pulls away from her, eyes wide, and takes a couple of jerky steps back.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she says, too loudly. Everything’s too loud, and too quiet all at once; she can hear her own heartbeat like a drum in her ears, but the silence around that is an overwhelming and constant buzz.

“ _Adora_ -” Catra says firmly, reaching out, but Adora backs up another step, nearly tripping over her dress; it should be comical. It isn’t.

“Catra, I’m so _sorry_.” Catra growls and runs her hands through her hair, gritting her teeth.

“I knew this would happen. I _told you_ , stuff like that doesn’t matter!”

‘Stuff like that’ meaning bruises Adora didn’t mean to give her, because _Catra_ can’t feel pain and _Adora_ ’s too rough for that not to be a bad combination; Adora had known this would be difficult, but she hadn’t realised she was going to ruin things quite this early on. She can feel herself welling up, which is just… _God._ So not what she needs right now.

“I didn’t mean to do that, but I _did_ do it,” she says thickly, wrapping her arms around her own torso as though to make herself smaller. They’re both in their underwear, and Catra’s so beautiful even under the shitty strip lighting, but Adora’s smudged fingerprints are on her skin and she hadn’t even known.

The worst thing is that she likes it. _That’s_ what scares her.

“Adora, for fuck’s sake,” Catra says, losing her temper and stalking towards her; Adora can’t scramble away fast enough, and soon they’re on the other side of the room, Adora backed up against the wall with nowhere to go. “We have been _over_ this-”

“What if I _hurt you_ and neither of us even _realises it_?” Adora interrupts, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. And that’s it really, isn’t it? She’s lowkey terrified that Catra has _no limits_ , and Adora hasn’t known her long enough to learn them.

“I’m not made of glass,” Catra hisses, pushing Adora squarely in the chest and shoving her up against the wall with surprising strength. “I’m not _Bella fucking Swan_ , Adora, and maybe - just maybe - I _like_ being able to see you on me. But you didn’t _ask_!”

Adora stares at her. Catra’s breathing heavily, her face set in a scowl; she looks angry, and a little bit betrayed, and something akin to _determined._

Adora _hadn’t_ asked, is the thing. She’d assumed it was wrong that she wanted to bite bruises into Catra’s neck; she thought she might be a little broken, bringing herself off to the thought of crescent-shaped marks on the soft skin of Catra’s inner thighs, pretending the images weren’t a match for her fingernails.

“Adora,” Catra says with a sigh, and she’s not scowling anymore. Adora thinks that, maybe, she looks resigned, and that hurts more than it should. It makes Adora brave.

“I didn’t think it was okay to like that,” she says stiltedly, forcing herself to relax. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “You make me want things that I didn’t know it was okay to want, and I freaked out.” There’s silence for a moment, then Catra huffs out an exasperated breath and wraps a hand around Adora’s wrist; she pulls it to her hip, carefully lining up Adora’s fingertips with the echoes she left behind earlier.

“Just fucking _touch me_ already, Adora.”

She can’t help but obey.

Adora falls into Catra’s orbit with the distinct feeling that it might be a permanent move. She wants to touch her everywhere at once, but settles for kissing her with a biting, bruising force that she reminds herself is _okay_ ; it is in fact _good_ and _wanted_. Catra growls against her mouth and pulls her towards the bed, breaking away long enough to struggle out of her bra and underwear. Adora’s not sure she deserves this, frankly.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Catra instructs, pulling Adora flush against her and unhooking her bra with practised ease before leaning forward to drag her lips up Adora’s neck. “ _Focus_ ,” she whispers against the shell of Adora’s ear, then Catra’s pushing her onto the edge of the bed and falling to her knees.

“Catra?” Adora breathes, and it’s sort of a question but mostly just a plea, as the other woman pulls Adora’s underwear down her legs and shuffles forward.

“Adora?” Catra replies, glancing up at her with a look of faux innocence as she slides her hands up Adora’s thighs, applying just enough pressure to ease her legs apart. “Did you need something?”

“Um.” Adora can barely breathe.

“Oxygen? Some time alone?” Adora’s breath hitches and she reaches out to desperately bury a hand in Catra’s hair. Then she panics and tries to take her hand back, but Catra preempts her, firmly placing her own hand over the top of Adora’s. “It’s okay,” she says quietly, then she’s taking her hand away and leaning forward to press a kiss to the inside of Adora’s thigh, then higher, then-

“ _Oh_ ,” Adora says faintly, the fingers woven through Catra’s hair spasming reflexively as Catra licks firmly over her clit. “That’s-” She doesn’t really have the breath to say exactly what it is, but the noises she can’t help but make at every hot, wet movement of Catra’s tongue probably get the point across. She leans back on her free hand and spreads her legs wider, hips moving restlessly against Catra’s mouth, nonsense sounds and half-formed words spilling from her own mouth without permission or pause.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for Adora to come; the only thing that stopped it happening immediately, probably, was surprise. All it takes in the end is Catra crooking two fingers inside her, and with a firm press of tongue, Adora’s completely gone. She gasps out something she can’t even hear over the roar of white noise in her ears, her hips jerking involuntarily, then the arm holding her up gives out completely and she flops back onto the bed. The hand still in Catra’s hair is slack now, and Adora lets it fall lazily to the side. Catra makes a pleased sound, her fingers still moving gently inside Adora as she works her through the last few shaking notes of her orgasm.

Catra looks incredibly smug when she climbs up onto the bed, manoeuvring them both so they’re lying in a semi-comfortable position next to each other. Adora thinks she probably has the right to be smug, since her brain feels like it’s coming out of her ears.

“We could’ve been doing that for weeks,” Catra reminds her; she’s obviously trying for a holier-than-thou expression when Adora looks at her, but she’s flushed pink and her mouth is still wet from going down on Adora... So it doesn’t work.

“Mm,” Adora says vaguely, since her brain is - as previously noted - not inhabiting her skull right now. Then, because it seems like the thing to do, she pulls Catra’s smug face down to her own and kisses the breath right out of her.

* * *

“Oh _fuck_ -” Adora holds Catra down with one arm, splaying her fingers firmly across her hip as she sucks a bruise into the inside of her thigh. Adora squeezes her own thighs together and bites back a whine as she feels Catra clench around the fingers working inside her; she’s gratifyingly wet, and as Catra bucks against her hand, Adora feels slick heat pooling in her palm and sliding down her wrist. Adora can feel a slickness between her own legs that suggests she’s not faring much better.

“Jesus, Adora, fucking _please_ ,” Catra practically wails, her hips straining against the arm pinning her down. Adora relents, removing the weight across Catra’s body and leaning forward to suck on her clit, earning her another shout of pleasure from Catra’s red, open mouth. Her other hand now free, Adora moves it between her own legs and begins to rub her clit in time with the movement of her fingers inside Catra.

(Catra swears a lot in bed, and Adora kind of knew she’d be into it, but she wasn’t expecting to get riled up again quite this quickly.)

They’re both moaning now, and Adora can tell Catra’s noticed what she’s doing to herself when she manages an abortive, “fuck, are you-?” before swearing again and immediately arching up against Adora’s mouth, coming just seconds before Adora does.

Is _she_ allowed to feel smug now? Probably. It’s difficult to feel much more than soft, warm contentment though, Adora thinks as she sluggishly crawls up the bed and collapses next to Catra. She watches the shuddering rise and fall of Catra’s chest, the indentations between her ribs becoming more pronounced on every shaky outward breath, and feels something hot and permanent settle into the very bones of her.

Catra gets her breath back eventually - and yes, Adora supposes she _does_ feel a bit smug about that actually - and turns to sling her leg haphazardly over Adora’s hip, face finding its way into the crook of her neck with a contented sigh.

“We’re never leaving this room,” Catra murmurs into the sweat-damp skin of Adora’s throat. “I’m going to stop pulling pints and steaming milk, and you’re going to drop out of university, and we’re taking away Sparkles’ fucking spare key.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Adora replies fondly, arms around Catra’s waist, eyelids drooping. Sounds like a good idea, to be honest; just sleeping, screwing, and ordering takeaway. She could probably live with that.

“You’ve been holding out on me, princess.” It’s not accusatory, Adora thinks; Catra’s voice is slightly rough, but the tone is soft and appreciative, like they’re sharing a joke. Adora presses her fingers just slightly to the bruises on her girlfriend’s hip, and falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat.

* * *

Now it’s started, they can’t get enough of each other. Adora’s okay concentrating in seminars and lectures, and she’s nothing but focused on the field, but in-between those times? She’s either all over Catra or _thinking_ about being all over her. She has several hip-height bruises that have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with walking into stuff; she’s a little distracted.

Catra, although she makes fun of Adora _constantly_ , isn’t doing much better.

 _“What do you mean you’re busy tonight?”_ Adora sighs and closes her eyes, flopping back onto her bed. Even down the phone Catra’s voice just _does_ things to her, and she suspects that most of that is completely intentional.

“I have a rugby meet-up,” she explains with a groan. “I missed the last two, I can’t keep doing that!”

 _“The last two, huh,”_ Catra says, sounding very pleased with herself. _“Can’t think of a single reason you’d miss hanging out with the team…”_ Adora squirms a little. Catra’s voice gets to her, yeah, but sometimes the content… it helps.

“Well, the first time was when you’d made that… purchase…” Her face is on fire, she just knows it.

 _“Oh yeah, I remember,”_ Catra says thoughtfully, the ever-present purr in her voice ramping up almost imperceptibly. _“I fucked you so hard we got a noise complaint.”_ Adora wants to throw her phone across the room. She really can’t _not_ go tonight; it’s a joint meet with the cheerleading team and she suspects Bow and Glimmer will take great delight in explain to the team _exactly_ what she’s skipping for this time.

“That’s the one,” she says a little croakily, swallowing uselessly against the dryness of her throat. The hand resting on the bare strip of skin between her shirt and jeans flexes slightly.

 _“And the second time?”_ Catra prompts.

“That was um…” Adora just breathes for a second, willing her own hands to stay exactly where they goddamn are. “You did that _thing_ with… with your fingers. You said you’d done some research.” Jesus, she’s so wet already, she can feel it; it’s Catra’s voice in her ear, and the memory of _that_ , and she’s instantly needy and aching.

 _“Oh, that was a fun night.”_ Catra’s voice is playful, but there’s a definite edge to it that tells Adora she’s not safe. _“You made quite the mess, princess, coming all over yourself like that. Do you remember?”_ Adora’s breath hitches and Catra _hears_ it. _“You sound pretty worked up there, Adora - what are you thinking about?”_

“Like you don’t _know_ ,” Adora whispers, pressing the heel of her palm against her clit through her jeans and biting back a noise of quiet frustration.

 _“Maybe I wanna hear you say it,”_ Catra murmurs, and there’s the distinct sound of a zipper from her end of the line. _“C’mon, princess - tell me what’s on your mind.”_ Adora lets out a shaky breath and undoes the button of her jeans, pushing the denim down her legs with one hand. Because apparently this is happening.

“I’m thinking about you making me…” She’s not as _good_ at this as Catra seems to be, but she’ll try; she squeezes her eyes shut, keeps her voice low. “Making me come. With your fingers.” Saying the words aloud makes her squirm a little, but Catra has a habit of rewarding her for candour - plus, she knows exactly what Adora’s _not_ saying.

 _“Mm,”_ Catra hums appreciatively, and there’s a staccato beat to her breathing that tells Adora she’s getting off on this too. _“Close enough - that was particularly gratifying. Do you wanna know what I’ve been thinking about?”_

“Yeah,” Adora croaks, sliding a hand into her soaked underwear and letting out a keening noise of pleasure as she presses two fingers to her aching clit. This is ridiculous - she saw Catra two days ago. There were several orgasms. She’s in a relationship and yet she’s never masturbated this much in her _life_.

 _“I’ve been thinking about how good you taste, Adora. I can’t - ah - get enough of it. Could almost come just from eating you out.”_ Catra’s panting now, her voice rough; Adora moans and presses a little harder, biting her lip and moving her hips in time with her fingers.

“God, Catra, I’m so close already I can’t-”

 _“C’mon, Adora, come for me - I want to hear you.”_ Adora obeys almost instantly, the desperation in Catra’s voice pushing her over the edge so hard and fast her vision goes blurry for a moment. She’s just present enough to hear Catra swear in that hot, cracked way she does when she comes - and if that stretches her own orgasm out for just a second or two longer, that’s Adora’s business.

They’re quiet for about a minute after that, just sort of breathing together as they come down - or as together as they can be, in different places entirely - until Catra breaks.

 _“Huh. Well that was surprisingly effective.”_ Adora snorts out a laugh and then they’re _both_ laughing, and Adora had never thought sex of any kind would be fun but it just… really _really_ is. It’s a lot of things she never expected, with Catra.

“No kidding,” she agrees, wiggling her jeans back up with her free hand. “I’ve um… never done that before.”

 _“Good,”_ Catra says simply. _“If it turned out anyone else had ever heard those noises from you before I’d probably want to claw their eyes out.”_ Threats of grievous bodily harm to Adora’s imaginary ex-girlfriends shouldn’t be erotic, but she’s come to realise now that pretty much everything about Catra turns her on. It’s exhausting.

“Do the neighbours count?” she quips, remembering the noise complaint with a mixture of pride and deep embarrassment.

 _“Fucking prudes,”_ Catra says darkly, and then there’s a flurry of activity on the other side of Adora’s door that makes her jump.

“I’ve learned my lesson about coming in unannounced but you have _half an hour_ until we _drag you out_ , Adora!” Ah. Glimmer and Bow are here. Adora pulls the phone away from her ear and realises that her rugby/cheerleading meet-up starts in less than an hour - which accounts for the harassed pitch of Glimmer’s voice.

“I’ll just be a second, hold on,” she calls back, then presses the phone back to her ear. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll text you?”

 _“Counting on it. Tell Glimmer she sounds fucking shrill.”_ Adora snorts.

“I’m not going to insult her _for_ you. Anyway… I’ll see you soon. I-” She stops. Pushes the palm of her hand against her closed eyelids until galaxies form in the darkness. “I’ll... see you soon,” she repeats, a little softer. There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

_“Yeah - see you soon, princess.”_

Adora stares at her phone for a moment after Catra hangs up, ignoring the hushed argument now going on outside the door about whether or not Glimmer should just use her key. She doesn’t really hear the ins and outs of it, honestly, because she has bigger things to worry about.

Adora nearly told Catra she loved her.

* * *

“Should you be drinking?” Bow asks with a furrowed brow, indicating the glass in front of Adora; it’s bright pink and has a little umbrella in it. She sighs and stirs it listlessly with her straw. 

“It’s diet pink lemonade,” she says morosely. “I’m still not really allowed alcohol and stuff until they take my gallbladder out. I risked it for a glass of champagne at Mermista’s wedding, but I’m trying not to push it.” Adora loves hanging out with these guys (although a bunch of people from both teams have already had to go home to study - they’re still at university, after all), and they even got a _booth,_ but every time she remembers her problematic internal organs her heart sinks.

“They still haven’t cut the sucker out?” Huntara asks from the other side of the table, looking surprisingly sympathetic for someone so imposing. Adora shakes her head.

“Not a priority, apparently,” she says bitterly. “I don’t even have a date for the surgery yet, though Entrapta said she’s pushing for it.” To be fair to Entrapta, she’s been great; she and Adora reconnected after her recent hospitalisation and she’s really fighting for the surgery to happen as soon as possible. 

“Fortunately, Adora’s found something to occupy her time,” Glimmer says sweetly, sipping on her espresso martini like a _total bitch_. It even has coffee beans floating delicately on the surface. Adora could weep.

“I’m not _occupying my time_ ,” Adora says, a touch snippily; Glimmer puts a hand on her arm, her face immediately softening.

“Oh god that’s _so_ not what I meant, Adora - I’m sorry.” Adora grimaces apologetically and puts her hand over Glimmer’s.

“Urgh, no - _I’m_ sorry. I just miss like… burgers and stuff. And there’s always the chance something’s going to happen again before I even _get_ the surgery.”

“The sword of Damocles,” Netossa says sombrely, nodding. Everyone, including her girlfriend, Spinny, looks at her with their eyebrows raised. She crosses her arms and scowls at the table. “I was doing Classical Studies before I moved over to journo - stop _looking_ at me like that!” Spinny looks positively adoring.

“How do you keep surprising me?” she asks with a fond grin, nudging a reluctantly pleased Netossa in the ribs with her elbow.

“You guys are so adorable,” Bow says with a lip wobble, leaning into Glimmer with a sigh. “I cannot _even_ with you two.” Bow’s had two pints of fizzy, fruity cider, which means he’s half a pint away from instigating a group hug. He will _not_ let the table get in his way.

“Oh, Bow, that’s so disappointing - I thought _I_ was your favourite?” The drawl is instantly recognisable and Adora’s standing up from her chair before she’s even properly registered who’s speaking. Catra looks, as usual, dangerously attractive. She’s wearing a trademark smirk with her winged eyeliner, like she knows exactly what the jut of her cocked hip is doing to Adora; There’s an oversized AC/DC shirt falling artfully off one tanned shoulder, tucked into faded black jeans. Adora can count, without even looking away from Catra’s face, all the people in this bar who are trying and failing not to look at her. She totally gets it, but she also feels kind of like she wants to make a _scene_ about it.

Catra’s smirk turns into a grin. “Hey, Adora.” Adora sits down; she isn’t sure why she stood up in the first place.

“Catra! Are you stalking me?” She leans over the table a little, and stage whispers, “because that would be _great_.” Catra snorts, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets.

“Princess, I just started _work_ here,” she says, voice mocking, and there’s probably something wrong with Adora because the attitude definitely does it for her. “I picked up someone’s shift - since my evening plans fell through.” The smirk is back - more pronounced now - and Adora’s face goes hot. “Anyway, my manager said to come tell you that she’s cutting you off-” She points at Bow. “And also you.” This time she points at Frosta, who looks absolutely livid.

“Okay, who gave Frosta alcohol?” Glimmer says crossly, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at the half empty WKD in front of her (distinctly underage) little sister. Frosta folds her arms moodily, sinking just a little in her seat.

“I’m not a _baby_ , Glimmer!”

“You’re seven _teen_ ,” Glimmer hisses, leaning across the table to swipe the bottle away from her. “If mum finds out this happened on my watch she’s _never going to let you visit again_.” That sobers Frosta up considerably. She’s got the tough girl act down to a fine art, but she really idolises Glimmer; if Angella banned her from visiting over a shitty blue alcopop, she’d be distraught.

“Okay but what about Bow?” Adora asks curiously, leaning back in her seat and staring at Catra. She’s gratified to see the other woman’s eyes darting down and lingering on her neckline, which is uncharacteristically low for Adora; she’d let Glimmer dress her to avoid having to make any decisions for herself. She’s allowed to do that sometimes, okay? “He’s old enough to drink. Why’s _he_ being cut off?”

“The manager said the third cider always has him crying at the staff across the bar,” Catra says with a shrug, tearing her eyes away from Adora to raise her eyebrows at Bow. “And then some of the more _impressionable_ bar staff start crying too. Apparently _some people_ find him endearing.” Bow clutches a hand to his chest, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His lip is doing that trembling thing that makes even the most macho and soulless of men want to comfort him.

“Oh my god, I made people _cry_? I’m _awful_. How could I let this happen?” Bow seems genuinely distraught about this, which is unsurprising. Also unsurprising is Catra’s lack of sympathy.

“Yeah, apparently,” she says with a shrug, turning back to the table while Glimmer consoles a - now gently sniffling - Bow. “So anyway. No booze for the kid or I have to kick you out, and no more for Bow either. And _obviously_ none for Adora, but that’s more of a recommendation from someone who’s seen her on morphine.” Then, with a grin, she leaves.

“She was a _dick_ ,” Frosta says emphatically, and Adora just sighs a little dreamily. She’s distracted by the sway of Catra’s hips as she walks back to the bar, but she suspects she’s not the only one.

(She still wants to punch those people in the face though.)

“Yeah, she’s kinda like that.”

“Oh my god,” Netossa says suddenly, leaning forward with such enthusiasm that Spinny actually jumps a little next to her. “Was that your _girlfriend_? The one from the hospital?” 

“The one she’s completely obsessed with?” Glimmer adds with a nod, a consoling arm still wrapped tightly around a damp-faced Bow. “Yep. That’s Catra.” Adora rolls her eyes but she can’t very well argue, can she? She’s been resisting the urge to text her for the entire evening; she’s practically gotten cramp in her fingers. 

“I love their love _so much_ ,” Bow says tearfully, and oh my god _no_ \- now Adora’s blushing.

“We’re not-” She cuts herself off. They’re not what? In love? Because actually, Adora’s 110% arse over elbow for this woman already and she doesn’t have the acting ability to pretend otherwise. “I mean… Urgh, they were right to cut you off, Bow.” Glimmer’s patting him on the back now and nodding along with Adora’s words.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna take him home,” Glimmer says with a sorrowful sigh, before her eyes harden and flick towards Frosta. “And I think _you_ should probably come with me, _dear sister_.” Frosta makes a noise like a wounded animal, but dutifully stands from her spot between Huntara and Netossa and shuffles out of the booth. Glimmer places a smacking kiss on Adora’s forehead before somehow manoeuvring the twin bulk of herself and Bow out of their seats.

“You kids be safe now,” Spinny says warmly, waving the trio off. Huntara, Spinny and Netossa are a few years older than the rest of them, and Spinny in particular is just… such a mum friend. Adora knows she’ll have her phone out in ten minutes, checking they all got home okay.

“You know they’re not _actually_ kids, Spinny,” Netossa says with a sigh, but she’s looking at her girlfriend like she hung the moon, so she’s not fooling anyone.

They finish up their drinks not long after that and decide to call it a night; it’s late anyway, and the others have taken up relentlessly teasing Adora about the attention she’s paying to the bar, so she at least is very much ready to get out of here. She’s pretty sure she must look like a tomato.

“Blood pressure problems again, princess?” Adora looks up from her seat and is surprised to see that Catra’s actually sliding into the booth next to her; her mouth is quirked up at one side in the ghost of a smile. Adora’s heart hurts just looking at her.

“Don’t start,” she says with a helpless smile, waving off the other three women as they walk away from the booth; Huntara’s winking at her furtively and Netossa is doing finger guns. Her friends don’t seem to have grasped that she and Catra are actually _dating_ , so like… this is completely unnecessary.

“If I ever stop making fun of you, please assume I’m dying,” Catra says seriously, but she shuffles a little closer to Adora in the booth and knocks their shoulders together gently. “I actually finish my shift in ten minutes. Can you think of any big, strong rugby players who might wanna accompany me home? Y’know - make sure I’m _safe_ on these _dangerous streets_.” Adora laughs, feeling lighter than she has all evening.

“I can think of one big, strong rugby player who might want to take you back to her place,” she says honestly, and Catra grins at her.

“Correct answer.”

* * *

The following week, two fairly important things happen.

Firstly, Catra gets asked to be part of a clinical trial for people with congenital pain insensitivity. She screws up her nose when she receives the letter, which Adora thinks looks _adorable_ , but she can tell Catra’s struggling to decide how she feels about the whole thing.

“I know it’s dangerous not being able to feel if I bite off my own tongue or whatever,” she says, holding the letter slightly away from her body like it’s a screaming child. “But who’s queueing up to be able to experience pain? I mean, other than the obvious.”

“Okay this isn’t entirely altruistic but... I really don’t want you to bite off your tongue.” That earns Adora a truly filthy laugh, which was pretty much the aim. Well, a secondary aim really; she wins on both counts, however, since Catra agrees to participate in the trial.

Then Catra demonstrates that her tongue is both present and fully functional, so arguably she wins on _three_ counts.

The second thing that happens that week is that Adora turns kind of yellow again, gets a truly _rocking_ fever, and starts throwing up.

“I’m s-s-sorry about this,” Adora says shakily, her speech coming out in fits and starts as her entire body vibrates with cold. She’s not cold, of course, not even from sitting on the bathroom floor - but it feels like she is. Her fever is, according to the thermometer Catra obtained from _hell_ only knows where, nearly at 40, which is significantly higher than it should be.

“Stop apologising, you moron,” Catra says, her voice lacking its usual bite as she rubs Adora’s back with one hand and aggressively Googles her symptoms with the other. “You probably have an infection,” she says tightly, putting her phone down with a sigh. “Luckily for _you_ , your incredibly sexy and resourceful girlfriend has a car and is going to take you to A&E.”

“She is pr-r-retty great,” Adora agrees with a small smile.

Then she throws up again.

* * *

The last time Adora had found herself in hospital, they’d put a stent in beside her jammed gallstones and it had made a significant difference to the quality of her life. She had returned to her proper colouring! She had been able to shower all by herself! She still has stones where there shouldn’t _be_ stones (as well as some inside her gallbladder, which is technically the correct place for them to be, even though those ones are _also_ terrible) but a generous sticking plaster had been placed over the problem.

Only now it feels kind of like she’s a cracked dam, and suddenly that plaster isn’t looking so robust.

A junior doctor she’s never met before confirms that she has an infection, and Catra stands around looking intimidating and angry until he leaves to get Adora some painkillers and anti-sickness meds.

“Where the fuck’s Entrapta? She normally lives here, I swear to god,” Catra grumbles, crossing her arms and tapping her foot in a parody of impatience. “Where’s a familiar nerd when you need one?”

“I’m right here,” Adora says with a tired grin, which has Catra relaxing at least long enough to roll her eyes.

“Let me rephrase,” she continues as she gently punches Adora in the arm. “Where’s a familiar nerd _with a medical degree_ when you need one?”

“Are you guys talking about me?” Entrapta enters through the curtain like the whirlwind she is, hair whipping out behind her as she strides into the room. “Because it seems like maybe you’re talking about me.”

“Entrapta, where the hell have you been?” Catra snarls, whirling around to meet her with an accusatory finger. “We just had some annoying, Prince Charming junior doc in here making eyes at Adora and doing absolutely _nothing_ useful.” Adora turns to stare at Catra, and even Entrapta raises her eyebrows just a little at her outburst.

“What.” Adora means for there to be punctuation there, but she can’t summon up the inflection for it. Catra rolls her eyes again.

“He kept like, touching your arms and looking intensely at you with his boring, superficially attractive eyes.” Catra sounds _insanely_ cranky about this. Adora is perplexed - which is, as she has openly admitted previously, a somewhat common occurrence - because that is absolutely not how it happened.

“I didn’t really notice his eyes?” Adora offers, brow furrowed, and Catra just huffs.

“It is genuinely alarming to me how little attention you pay to your surroundings.”

“I hate to interrupt… whatever this is,” Entrapta says with a hand raised - which is hilarious, really, because this is her place of work - “but I also need to interrupt… whatever this is. To do my job. Kay?” Adora nods dumbly at her and Catra slinks over to the chair in the corner, slumping into it with her legs splayed out obnoxiously.

Entrapta gets to work asking her usual list of questions, poking and prodding Adora with brief, brisk movements. The - apparently attractive - junior doctor comes back at some point with medication, which Entrapta lets him sort out with a noncommittal wave.

“This will only hurt for a moment,” he says with a kind smile, indicating the tray of cannula equipment in his hand. “I understand you’ve been here before though, so you’re probably used to it!”

“Yeah, she has a lot of practice enduring annoying pricks,” Catra says loudly, her face completely expressionless when Adora and the junior doctor turn to look at her in unison. Adora laughs it off, but only because she isn’t sure what else to do.

“I’m fine, yeah. Sorry. Go ahead.” She isn’t sure what she’s apologising for, but she can tell from the stiffening of Catra’s posture out the corner of her eye that Catra’s pretty sure it’s _her behaviour_.

Adora apologises like most people take in _oxygen_ , it’s not her _fault,_ this isn’t _fair_ -

“All done,” he says cheerily, and Adora thanks the junior doctor with a wobbly smile, waiting for the drugs to get to work. She supposes he is objectively attractive, considering him as he packs up his stuff and leaves the room. If you like that sort of thing. Which Adora so _clearly_ does not.

“Not my type,” she says to nobody in particular, closing her eyes as she feels the pain and sickness start to lessen in her chest. Entrapta stops poking her for a second to say something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _well obviously_ ’ before going back to her prodding, which is fading in discomfort every second. 

“Good-looking guys with actual careers? Yeah, nothing about that could _possibly_ draw you in huh, princess.” Adora’s not sure why Catra’s chosen now to dial her self-deprecation up to eleven, but she would really prefer to be more lucid if she has to deal with this.

“He was so _nice_ ,” Adora says with a lazy shrug, eyes still closed, and she realises she sounds horrified by the very idea. Which she is, actually, because _she’s_ nice; imagine if she was with someone equally nice! They’d never get anything done! They’d just be apologising to each other constantly. “Also his eyes were boring,” she adds, as an afterthought. Entrapta prods her a little harder in the chest and she huffs out a disgruntled “ow” - but she doesn’t miss the amused ‘ _hm_ ’ from Catra’s corner of the room.

“Okay, I’m gonna apply some pressure to the higher-ups,” Entrapta says, finally pulling away; Adora opens her eyes to see her cracking her neck, then determinedly scribbling something on her ever-present clipboard. “I’m recommending a Spyglass endoscopy to properly get rid of the stones, and in the meantime you’re going back on antibiotics. Strong ones. Then I’m referring you for a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.”

Adora blinks at her and Entrapta sighs.

“They go in through _very small holes_ to _take out your gallbladder_ ,” she says slowly, miming things enthusiastically and somewhat unnecessarily with her hands. “No more stones because the gallbladder is _gone_.” She makes a ‘poof’ sort of motion with her hands and Adora’s struck with the sudden urge to giggle. 

“Got it,” she says with a nod, biting her lip against a smile. Entrapta gives her a double thumbs up and then things proceed very much as before. Adora is wheeled to a ward - this one notably busier than the last - and is once again pretty much left to her own devices.

The main difference, of course, is that Catra is next to her rather than opposite her. Also they’re _dating_ now - even if Catra seems to have some pretty wild ideas about how fickle Adora’s affections are.

“I don’t _want_ to date the junior doctor,” Adora says suddenly, aware that she sounds petulant and not really caring. She turns to Catra slightly, careful of her cannula. “His eyes were all wrong.”

“I know,” Catra says after a moment, sighing and folding her arms. She looks angry, but Adora suspects it isn’t an anger meant for her. “I get it, I’m just… tired.”

“You clearly _don’t_ get it,” Adora argues, folding her own arms and only wincing slightly as it pulls a little on the tube feeding her whatever they’ve hooked her up to this time around. She unfolds her arms. “Because if you _did_ , you wouldn’t be acting all _weird_ about _nothing_.” Catra doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t even look at her, arms still folded, eyes on some distant point on the other side of the room.

Adora was really hoping not to have to do this here. She sighs.

“Also - and this is _so_ not what I had in mind when I thought about saying this by the way - I’m in love with you, so I’m not really out here looking to date anyone other than a super cranky bartender.”

Catra’s eyes move to her then, and she looks… well, ‘shocked’ is probably the appropriate word. Her mouth is slightly open, but she doesn’t say anything for a long moment, apparently too stunned to do anything but gape.

“You love me,” she says eventually, and her arms are still folded but Adora can see her fingers flexing against her biceps. “You actually… What the _hell_ , Adora?” There’s no bite to this follow-up question, and Adora can’t help the smile that blooms on her own face because Catra is quite clearly _delighted_ by this development; she’s doing that thing where she tries to be cool but Adora can see right through her.

“Sorry,” she says with a shrug, still smiling. “I would’ve told you somewhere more appropriate but then… y’know. Infection.”

“That does make this marginally less romantic,” Catra admits, but she’s grinning now and there’s no edge to it; she just looks _happy_. Adora huffs out a laugh and then holds out her hand. Catra stands and takes it without hesitation, hopping up onto the scant few inches of spare mattress at Adora’s side. Then Catra leans forward and kisses her with a soft, appreciative hum and the ward falls away; Adora sighs with her whole body and melts into the touch. Catra pulls away briefly, pressing their foreheads together with an almost manic hiccough of laughter.

“I love you too, idiot. Obviously. Fucking hell.”

“I’m so glad you made me brush my teeth before we came here,” Adora says, grinning stupidly, and Catra laughs again, and kisses her for her trouble.

* * *

Over the next few days, Catra flagrantly ignores proper visiting hours, staring down the nurses whenever they give her disapproving looks over the top of the BP monitor.

“I practically live here,” is her excuse, and Adora guesses she’s probably right. She does feel less alone with her there; she struggles to sleep without Catra next to her most nights, and it’s even more of a problem in an unfamiliar place, in spite of the drugs (and in spite of the hospital walls becoming more familiar by the day).

Glimmer and Bow want to visit but Adora knows they’re busy, so she bans them from coming to the hospital. They Skype a lot, and she makes sure she looks bright-eyed and bushy-tailed every time so they don’t worry about her. Catra rolls her eyes a whole bunch. 

Things go to hell in a very gentle, sedate way, three days after Adora’s admitted to hospital.

She goes for her special, fancy endoscopy at 11am on a Monday. She has general anaesthetic for this one, which means she has no idea what time it is when she wakes up later, or indeed where she is. Nothing really hurts, per se, but she _has_ had a tube down her throat for a while, so she’s definitely been _more_ comfortable.

(Also, she can’t stop burping. It’s a side-effect, apparently, and she’d find it funny if it wasn’t so annoying. Every time she moves she makes a noise like distant thunder.)

When they eventually wheel her back to her room, she realises it’s 3pm and Catra is nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me,” she says, politely - if a little scratchily - to the nurse taking her blood pressure. “Where’s Catra?” She doesn’t bother saying ‘my girlfriend’ or ‘the girl who was here before’ because everybody knows _exactly_ who Catra is. The nurse purses her lips and notes something on her tablet before taking off Adora’s armband.

“She made a bit of a… scene.” Adora blinks at her.

“A scene?”

“Your procedure took longer than expected, and she started behaving in a threatening manner towards some of the staff. I’m afraid she was asked to leave.” Adora’s fumbling for her phone before the nurse has even finished speaking, immediately pressing the call button next to Catra’s name.

She answers on the second ring.

“ _I was only a little threatening,_ ” is what she says, rather than something normal like ‘hello’. Unfortunately for Catra, Adora is still super pissed with her.

“You got _thrown out of the hospital_ ,” she hisses, keeping her voice low so she doesn’t bother any of the other ward’s residents. They’re all trying to be subtle in listening to her conversation, but she can tell that’s what they’re trying to do; clearly they were present for Catra’s meltdown. The nurse has left her to it, but the other patients don’t seem so happy to oblige.

_“Yeah well, I told you I’d rip the hospital down if you died, and that was before we even started dating. I don’t see what the problem is.”_

“The problem,” Adora replies quietly, sagging a little as the adrenaline leaves her body in a rush, “is that I wasn’t dying, and now you’re probably banned from visiting me, which means I’m here by myself after having tubes shoved down my throat.” Catra’s silent for a second before she lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Fuck.”

Adora can probably dine out on this for a while. Once she’s done missing her _ridiculously combative_ girlfriend. They just sort of breathe at each other for a while, then Adora thinks to ask -

“Wait, where did you even _go_?” Catra snorts.

“ _I’m literally still just sitting in the car park, princess. Racking up a hell of a parking charge here._ ” Adora will _not_ be swayed by this gesture. “ _I couldn’t actually leave, obviously… I’ll just, like, sleep in the back until you’re discharged. It’s fine._ ”

Okay, Adora might be a little swayed.

“Catra, just… go sleep at my place. You can rearrange the fridge or whatever.”

“ _Just because I don’t let my space fall into biohazard territory, doesn’t mean I’m gonna clean your fridge for you._ ” Adora stifles a weird laugh-yawn combo. Catra is 100% going to clean out her fridge - she can’t resist.

“I love you,” Adora says, and gets a little thrill just feeling her tongue form the words. If she’d held back much longer she’d probably have given herself jaw cramp.

“ _You’re not gonna stop saying that now are you._ ”

“You know I can hear when you’re smiling, right? So you can cut the crap, Catra.”

“ _First of all? Fuck off. Second of all, I love you too, but let’s not like… make a big deal out of this._ ” Adora raises her eyebrows.

“You mean like when you threatened to pull down a hospital brick by brick?”

“ _Hey that-_ ” Adora interrupts her.

“Or when you got cranky because you thought I preferred some random junior doctor to you?”

“ _Adora_ -”

“Or when you got _thrown out of a hospital_ because you didn’t believe that I was indeed alive and breathing a floor away?”

“ _You’ve made your point_.” Adora grins, satisfied.

“Good. Now go home so I can miss you some more.”

It’s only once Catra’s grudgingly agreed and they’ve hung up that Adora realises Catra didn’t argue when she called her dorm ‘home’.

* * *

“Catra picked up a shift?” Adora asks dumbly, staring at Glimmer and Bow with annoyingly watery eyes. “But I just got discharged! I told her it would be today!” Glimmer shrugs, taking Adora’s bags and hustling her towards the car.

“Maybe she needed the money - but anyway, _we’re_ here, and I’m sure you’ll see her later. She mentioned it.” Glimmer and Catra have been _talking_? Adora’s baffled - but honestly, that could be the drugs. They were rooting around in her digestive system yesterday, so they’ve given her codeine and stuff because it still feels really weird in there. 

“She said she was sorry!” Bow offers, and that, coupled with his hopeful expression, does help to release some of the tension from Adora’s chest. Just because _she_ has a normal schedule ( _usually_ , Adora mentally qualifies as Bow helps her into the car) that doesn’t mean anyone else is obliged to have one. Catra mainly does bartending in the evenings, but she’s been doing a lot of work in coffee shops recently; she doesn’t _say_ it’s because she wants to spend her evenings with Adora, but Adora has her suspicions.

Super cute suspicions.

“Yeah, okay. And hey - it’s good to see you guys,” she says, warming when she realises that Glimmer and Bow actually left cheerleading practice to come and get her. They both grin at her and she smiles back, and then they’re driving home to the dulcet tones of Nicki Minaj, Bow clearly so keyed up from missing practice that he’s practically bouncing in his seat.

Her friends are so great. They need to hang out more.

It doesn’t take long until they’re back at the dorms; Glimmer and Bow help her out of the car, insist on taking her bags, and escort her up the stairs as well. Adora doesn’t complain, because her legs feel like they’re made of overcooked spaghetti, and also because she’s getting pretty good at accepting help now.

(It was nice to be able to shower by herself before she was discharged though. She’d forgotten how awesome that was.)

“Think you can get the key in the lock all by yourself, tough guy?” Glimmer teases, and Adora halfheartedly shoves her away with a laugh before taking her spare key from Bow and turning to face the door. She does indeed manage to get the key in the lock by herself, and a moment later she’s walking into her dorm room, which is-

Not entirely empty.

Catra is sitting cross-legged in the centre of the room, which is enough of a surprise as it is, given the story she’s been spun. Then Adora’s distracted by the lights, pulled away from her study of Catra’s half-shadowed face by the strings of LED bulbs that seem to grace every available surface in the room; everything is lit by this soft, ambient glow - so different from hospital strip lighting that it has to be intentional.

Then she looks back at Catra, and Bow and Glimmer are ushering her forward and lowering Adora down onto the carpet opposite her; the door clicks behind them as they leave, and she’s too bewildered to even turn and watch them go.

“What-?”

Catra just smiles at her, and it’s so relentlessly _loving_ that all of Adora’s questions die on her tongue. Catra holds something out to her, and it’s familiar, but not entirely so.

“Is that an apple?” Catra smiles a little wider.

“I think it’s more of a declaration.”

Then Adora notices the ring on _top_ of the apple, and all the breath leaves her body. Because _what_.

Then Catra starts talking.

“Okay so first of all, you don’t, like, have to say yes. Right now. Or ever, I guess, although honestly I kind of hadn’t planned for that scenario.” That startles a small, surprised laugh out of Adora, and it’s a little like a sob, but Catra takes that as the encouragement it so definitely is. “Adora, I’ve never been allowed good things. We both went through foster care so I don’t need to tell you how much of a total shitshow that was, but some of those people were a little harder on a kid they couldn’t break - or at least a kid who wouldn’t make a noise if they did.”

(They’ve talked about this, even though it had been hard for both of them; Adora’s kissed every one of Catra’s scars, and the fact that she has so many she can’t even remember getting is so overwhelming.)

“Then this total dumbass who couldn’t hold her pain relief came into the hospital the same week I’d dislocated my shoulder climbing out the upper floor window of a party that went a _little_ bit south.” Adora laughs wetly at the memory, because it had taken _weeks_ for Catra to admit the truth about that particular incident. “And suddenly - here was this good thing. This shining, beautiful, _very good_ thing, and I was allowed to have it for some reason. You wanted me. _You_ -” and here she gestures wonderingly at Adora- “wanted _me_. This total fuck-up who lashes out first and asks questions _never_. I’m still kind of coming to terms with the fact that you like me at all, let alone anything bigger, and you… Adora, you make me want to be a better person. Even if that’s not possible, even if this is just how I _am_ , you make me want to try.”

Tears are streaming down Adora’s face now, but she’s smiling, and she knows Catra’s fighting back tears too because she looks totally wrecked.

“I know this is probably too soon, but I… We’ve talked about my _condition_ and what it could mean for, like, my life. How it might not be as long as we both want it to be. So I’d kinda like the life I’ve got left to be the best it can be - which means marrying you, apparently. That’s something I want. If you want it.” Adora has a hand pressed to her relentlessly smiling mouth by now, but she pulls it away and grabs at Catra’s free hand, linking their fingers together.

“Catra. _Ask me_.”

“Hey, Adora - will you marry me?”

“Jesus, yes, of _course_ I will, come here-” Catra’s crying too, after all that, even as she slides the ring onto Adora’s finger and kisses her breathless again. It should be gross, both of them laughing and crying all over each other, but if Adora had thought to imagine this moment at all, it wouldn’t have come close to this level of perfection.

Just her and Catra kissing messily on her dorm room carpet, a ring sparkling on her finger in the light from hundreds of LEDs, as a bright green apple rolls away under her bed.

* * *

(The next day Catra makes them bacon sandwiches for breakfast and burns her hand on the pan. She hisses in pain, pulling her hand away from the hot metal, and then turns to stare at Adora in shock.

There’s a lot more crying. They burn the bacon. They live happily ever goddam after.)

**Author's Note:**

> The mystery of Catra's dislocated arm is solved! I mean, probably. She could be lying still.
> 
> EDIT: I have changed A FEW WORDS here and there, because I can't leave well enough alone. Also, I just remembered Tintagel's horror at Adora wearing a white dress to someone else's wedding and want to reassure everyone that Mermista ACTIVELY ENCOURAGED THIS, since she was wearing blue. PROBLEM SOLVED. Okay, bye.


End file.
